The Setting of a Silver Sun
by Samixa
Summary: Snapshots of Sirius's first year after leaving Hogwarts. Maybe he isn't as prepared for this war as he thought he was. RL/SB slash.
1. Part 1

1.

McGonagall actually cries.

Sirius didn't think it was physically possible, but as he looks around at the crowd gathered in the Great Hall, he sees that Lily's speech has produced a fair few misty eyes.

But Sirius doesn't cry – heck, he's a Marauder after all. And he definitely didn't cry that time he finished reading _Hairy Snout, Human Heart_, no matter how much James insists he did. That was just hayfever.

Yet he is a bit sad to be leaving this place. It will take some getting used to sleeping in his own room, and even though James will be sharing the flat with him he still feels he'll lose some of the immediacy that their dormitory had. There'll be no more Quidditch pitch or sneaking to Hogsmeade or competitions to see who can make Filch faint with rage the most. And there'll be no more house-elves to cook him impromptu midnight snacks – that'll be a real bitch. But, on the other hand, he'll have another excuse to have Remus in his flat in the middle of the night.

His fellow students begin to clap as Lily steps down from the podium, red-hair flashing in the glow from the windows, and suddenly Sirius doesn't want to leave his seat. Maybe he could transform into Padfoot and hide in some deserted upstairs corridor for a few more hours, just until he's ready to say a proper goodbye. They've been so busy planning a slew of last minute pranks that he hasn't had the time to appreciate the fact that he's actually leaving Hogwarts; the first real home he's had.

But then there's the familiar scraping of wood on stone as his classmates get up for the final sail across the lake, but Sirius remains sitting.

He feels a warm hand clasp his own and looks up into Remus's face.

"Are you coming?" he asks, letting go of Sirius's hand before someone else notices.

Sirius sees James and Peter standing a few feet away watching him.

"Of course I am," he says lightly, springing up from the bench. "Who needs school anymore?"

2.

The first Saturday he and James have free from work, they visit a second-hand motorcycle shop behind Camden market.

Sirius walks between rows of motorbikes in varying states of disrepair, while James attempts to make small talk with the Muggle shop owner.

"... and there was just no way West Ham should'a been relegated," the Muggle says fervently, "them FA fat cats just want as much money as they can get, got no love for the game at all. What team d'you support?"

Sirius bends down to check the state of the brake pads on a newish-looking Yamaha as James flounders.

"Eh – the London Kickers," he says wildly, shooting Sirius a look that clearly says _you know I know nothing about football, and I'm going to kill you for putting me in this position._

"The London what?" the owner says, his eyes narrowing in suspicion. "Are you trying to take the piss, son?"

"They're his high school team," Sirius says, wiping his oily hands on his jeans as he stands up. "James was never one much for football, you'd rather play netball wouldn't you?"

"_Netball,_" the muggle says, smirking at James, "I thought that was a girls' sport?"

"Well, you could never keep up with the boys could you, Jamie?" Sirius grins as James's face blushes deep red.

The Muggle gives James and Sirius one last suspicious look, before walking over to another customer who just entered the shop.

"I'm gonna fucking kill you, Padfoot," James hisses as soon as the owner's out of earshot.

Sirius sniggers and continues to the back of the shop where there's a sign that reads Vintage Bikes. _Now this is more like it_, Sirius thinks to himself as he looks at the shining chrome and leather machines, much more pleasing to the eye than the coloured fibre-glass imitations that line the front of the shop.

He looks at the price-tag dangling from the handle of a 1948 Vincent Black Shadow, does some quick mental arithmetic to work out how many paycheques it would take for him to reach the figure listed and comes to a conclusion.

"Prongs, can I borrow a hundred galleons?"

3.

Peter's beer dribbles slowly down the side of the armchair as he falls asleep, wrist dangling loose tipping the bottle neck south.

Sirius doesn't bother with it. He's too warm and comfortable and pleasantly drunk to care at the moment. Anyway, it's nothing that a quick _scourgify_ in the morning won't clean.

James is out for the evening – something about Lily and a dwarf, though Sirius isn't sure if he's remembering that right – and after work Remus and Peter both found their way over to his flat.

He sighs and leans back into the sagging leather couch, and the fingers of Remus's hand that's lying on his thigh give three quick taps – _ready, steady, go_ – and Remus turns his head to nuzzle at the crease behind Sirius's ear.

"Not when Wormtail's still here," Sirius manages to mumble breathily, as Remus's lips work their way across his cheek to his own.

Remus huffs exasperatedly and Sirius can smell the faint trace of beer on his breath.

"Peter," Remus says.

"You'll never wake him now."

"Peter, get up now. I want to snog Sirius and you're in the way," Remus says loudly.

The effect is instantaneous: Peter's beady eyes snap open, mouth agape, and disapparates before Sirius has even begun to laugh.

4.

"You owe me, Black," James says around a mouthful of cereal, as he waits for Sirius to sign an IOU slip.

"Think of it as the next year's rent," says Sirius, opening the kitchen window for the morning post owl.

"You said I was your brother, and brothers didn't need to pay rent."

"You'd been feeding me Firewhisky shots all night! I'd've let Snape stay in my bed rent-free if he'd asked." But he signs the IOU anyway, as a tawny post owl hops onto the windowsill. James is smiling in satisfaction as he relieves the owl of its letter.

The envelope's unaddressed, but Sirius thinks the thin, sloping handwriting on the parchment is somewhat familiar. James passes the letter over to him, mouth set.

_Same place as last time._

_9pm_

5.

"You're as subtle as a wounded Erumpent, Black," Mad Eye Moody snarls as Order members brush past them in the hallway.

"Nobody noticed me, and anyway it's just a bit of fun," Sirius retorts, trying to sound casual but something of the petulant teenager seeps through.

"_Just a bit of fun_," Mad Eye repeats, face twisting in anger. "Listen, Black, this isn't about Hogwarts House rivalries any more – this is the real thing. You say the wrong thing, confide in the wrong person and it's not going to be detention; it will be death or worse. We aren't messing around here, and neither is Voldemort – so get your fucking act together, and don't ever let me see you ride up to a meeting on that goddamn motorbike again,"

Sirius doesn't know what to say to that. He kicks at the skirting board with his foot, avoiding Moody's eyes.

"_This_ is what I said to Dumbledore," growls Moody. "_This _is why you can't have kids in the Order."

Sirius looks up at that. "I'm of age, and I'm not at school anymore."

"Then start acting like it."

6.

Sirius sets down his quill with a sigh and stares out of the small office window to the cobblestone street outside. It's getting dark already as the autumn night draws in, sucking out the last rays of summer sun as the shoppers stream out of Diagon Alley and head home. He's supposed to be reading about the 1648 International Magical Cooperation treaty, but the print is so small and language so arcane that Sirius can't concentrate on the terms of agreement for longer than three minutes at a time.

He's been working as an assistant at Goldstein & Son Legal Solicitors for two months now and, besides from the occasional boring treaty, Sirius has found the job to be surprisingly enjoyable. Surprising, because he's entering the profession that his father had planned him to enter all along, following in the footsteps of past Black patriarchs. However, he's not going about it in the way that firstborns of the Noble House of Black should do – with a Ministry internship courtesy of familial connections, a few years practicing, then a few bribes to land a cushy position in the Wizengamot – he's doing it the hard way; starting as an assistant then hopefully being promoted to a trainee under Mr Goldstein's supervision.

He also made sure to only send his resume to solicitors' firms that had no policy against representing Muggleborns – he didn't want his mother to get the idea that he was trying to reform his ways.

But he enjoys the work. In what other profession do you get paid to be an argumentative git?

And in ten years from now, when Sirius does land that seat on the Wizangamot through sheer determination and skill, his first act will be to abolish the laws that prohibit employment of werewolves.

7.

Remus's hair is still wet and cold droplets land on Sirius's bare chest, like pinpricks to his flushed skin.

He runs his hands up Remus's back, fingers tracing the curve of his spine, as Remus guides them in a steady rhythm. There was something Sirius wanted to say to him, but right now all that fills his mind is the here and now, the paleness of Remus's skin, his short gasps of breath and the urgent heat between them.

"That's it, that's it," Sirius chants softly. His words fade into short gasps and incoherent babbling. _Yes, this is right_.

He comes sooner than he wants to, with an embarrassingly high-pitched whimper against Remus's throat, but he keeps thrusting until Remus looks like her is out of air. Finally his teeth clench and he inhales sharply, one hand gripping Sirius's shoulder.

Remus rolls off him and onto the bed beside him, as Sirius's fingers rake lightly across Remus's collarbone. He stares at the bite mark, still visible in the darkening room, and traces the old scar with the pad of his thumb.

Remus lets him look longer than he ever has before.

8.

Sirius is late for work and is scarfing down a piece of dry toast when the Patronus shoots in.

At first he's taken completely aback, thinking he must still be asleep or that he's somehow confused the orange juice with the Firewhisky, when the silver rabbit opens its mouth and says in a panicked voice, "It's Benjy – come quick, I can't hold them off for much longer!"

Without pausing for thought, Sirius turns on his heel and disapparates.

He lands on the frosty moor, wand drawn and narrowly misses being struck by a jet of purple light. He sends a stunning spell in the direction the light came from, and sees that he's just apparated into the midst of a battle. He recognises various Order members in the melee, before a masked figure appears from nowhere in front of him and Sirius has no option but to duel.

His socked feet slip in the mud – he never thought to put his shoes on before he left the flat – as he stumbles backwards, trying to remember any other curses other than a Stunning spell as the Death Eater bears down on him, deflecting his spells with seemingly little effort.

He tries to concentrate, but all around him echoes cries and yells and the drumming of his own heartbeat. What if he dies out here, right now; in his socks and unable to perform anything more threatening than a Stunning spell? What about Remus – he won't have awoken from his transformation, he won't know what's happening.

Suddenly, a voice, a bone-chillingly high voice, echoes across the moor louder than any of the cries of the duelers: "_Leave it_". And in an instant the Death Eaters disapparate.

Sirius is still reeling from the abrupt end of the duel, all his senses are taut and eager to fight, to strike out. He realises he's continuing to fire Stunners into the now empty space in front of him.

He looks around and sees a dozen other Order members are nearby, including Peter and Mad Eye. Some are clutching at wounds, others staggering over to Mad Eye, who is their unofficial commander in battle.

There's blood staining the grass and Sirius doesn't see Benjy Fenwick amongst those left on the moor. Behind them, a little way up a slope, lies the derelict farmhouse that Moody suspected was a meeting point for Death Eaters. Well, Sirius thinks, the events of the last fifteen minutes have proved that suspicion to be right.

He begins to stumble towards Moody and the others – slightly dizzy as the adrenaline courses through him – when he sees a red-headed someone crouching over a prostrate figure on the ground.

Heart in his mouth, Sirius rushes over to Lily and James.

"James!" he cries as soon as he reaches them. "Are you okay? What –"

"He's okay. He caught the blast of a _confringo_ spell, he's just a little dazed that's all," Lily says. She sounds too calm – though maybe it's just the Healer training kicking in, for when Sirius looks at Lily he can see the worry etched on her face.

"I'm okay," James pants, taking her hand in his. "Where's Remus?"

"He was still under the sleeping draught when I left him," Sirius explains. "He won't have woken up yet."

Sirius helps lift James to his feet and they make their way over to the small crowd now gathered around Moody. Peter comes and stands beside them, his expression oddly blank.

"Why did they disapparate?" Emmeline Vance is asking Moody. "What was that voice?"

"Moody sighs heavily. "That was the voice of Voldemort. He ordered them to retreat."

"Why? We were outnumbered, they easily could have... you know...finished us."

"Voldemort's smart," Moody replies, magical eye spinning in all directions. "He knows he can disappear people one at a time in the middle of the night and not be caught, but killing twenty of us here in broad daylight – he's to waiting to have a big attack that will frighten everyone more than they already are, and this wasn't the time to do it. By backing off now he makes us all more scared and hopes that the Order will consequently disband, leaving his way clear."

Sirius swallows, unable to believe this is actually happening. Half an hour ago he was following his mundane morning routine, and now _this_. He can't wrap his head around it. A crow lands a short distant away and begins to peck at the remains of something lying on the ground.

"Has anyone seen Fenwick?" Moody asks to the Order members.

"Maybe he was never here," Frank Longbottom says, holding a handkerchief to a gash in his cheek. "Maybe the Patronus was an impostor, and we've just walked into a trap."

"No," replies Moody firmly, "you can't imitate another person's patronus, and Fenwick and Podmore were on the schedule for last night's surveillance duty. Podmore's been knocked out, but when he's revived I'm sure he'll be able to confirm that Fenwick was here. In the meantime, let's work on the assumption that Benjy Fenwick sent the patronus himself."

"Well, maybe they dragged him into the trees," suggests Frank, pointing to a small copse of trees a few yards away from them.

As a group, the Order members begin to head over to the trees, searching for any sign of Benjy. The crow flies away as the group approaches. They have almost reached the trees when Emmeline lets out a scream –

"Oh, Merlin! Benjy!"

Sirius feels his stomach turn over as he looks at the patch of ground where Emmeline is staring in horror. The scene is like something from those Muggle horror films Sirius sometimes goes to see, only much more vivid; at Emmeline's feet lies a fragment of human skull, blood and other fluid seeping over the marsh-grass, an eyeball, still attached to the empty socket by a thin thread of muscle, stares upwards at them. More screams and gasps of shock follow as, one-by-one, the Order members realise that the ground around them is littered with the shrapnel of a human body.

James and Lily turn towards each other, shielding their eyes, while Peter stands and stares at the carnage before him as though numb to the trauma.

Sirius feels his stomach lurch and retches; once; again, and once more.

END OF PART 1


	2. Part 2

9.

"The only thing I could remember how to do was a Stunning spell," he confesses in a mumble, face buried in the sofa cushions.

Across the room, Sirius hears Remus set his goblet down on the table. He feels pathetic and incredibly ashamed. Isn't he supposed to be the great Sirius Black? A bold Marauder and a Gryffindor to the core? Why is he moping about – face buried in the bloody sofa, for Merlin's sake! – like some melodramatic Ravenclaw?

"Try not to think about it."

"Not think about it?" he says loudly, sitting up to glare at Remus. "For fucks sake, Remus, isn't that what I've been trying – he was strewn all over the ground! I can't just –"

He's so angry he can't get the words out. This is the side of Remus Sirius hates; he hates how Remus can just draw up his emotional barriers, living in safe neutrality, leaving Sirius outside to face the tumult of his emotions.

The door of the flat slams behind him as he leaves.

10.

Peter's mum makes him a bacon sandwich.

Sirius doesn't think he's ever been in Peter's house and not had Mrs Pettigrew produce a bacon sandwich for him within fifteen minutes of stepping over the threshold. He's not complaining about it; it's just one of those family quirks, like how the Potters never use magic to light a fire or the Snapes' abhorrence of showering.

He sits down at the small kitchen table to eat and Peter joins him looking worried, as though he expects Sirius to start yelling at any second.

"Have you and Remus had a fight, then?" Peter ventures timidly, after a prolonged silence.

"Yeah," Sirius says. "He just doesn't understand. It's almost like he doesn't want to know what happened."

"I think you had to be there to understand."

Sirius meets Peter's eyes and immediately knows that Peter has been going through the same torment as he has – strangely, it makes Sirius feel a little more confident.

"I'm sorry I just turned up unannounced," he begins awkwardly. "Tell your mum she doesn't need to set up a bed, I'll just kip on the sofa."

"I thought you would've gone to Prongs's parents' first," Peter says as he dumps Sirius's dirty plate in the sink.

"I would have. But they would just make me feel guilty and tell me to go back and apologise and –"

"And you knew I wouldn't stand up to you if you came here."

Sirius frowns. There was a harsh note in Peter's voice that he's never heard before.

"Are you okay, Pete?"

"I'm fine. You know where the sofa is. See you in the morning."

11.

The tenth of November rolls around again.

James insists they go to the pub to celebrate, and though Sirius would rather stay at home, he allows himself to be dragged to the Three Broomsticks anyway.

"Happy birthday, Sirius," Lily says in greeting when they arrive at the booth Madam Rosmerta has reserved for them. Sirius can still smell the trace of hospital disinfectant in her hair, as Lily hugs him.

"Thanks Lils," he says, then turns to look at the other people squeezed around the small table. Beside Lily and James is Peter, who's sitting next to the newly engaged Frank and Alice. Remus is there too, squeezed in between Sirius's old Beater partner, Bertie Russell, and a clearly already tipsy Beatrice McElroy.

Remus's eyes meet Sirius's, as he squeezes himself onto the end of the bench, beside Beatrice. Sirius is tempted for a brief moment to tell the others to fuck off home and leave him here alone with Remus – but that would probably create more arguments than it would solve, so he contents himself instead by saying:

"Well, it's not everyday you turn nineteen. First round's on me guys!"

12.

Three hours later and the edges of Sirius's vision are starting to blur.

The table in front of him is now littered with an array of glasses and bottles, most of which Sirius knocks over as he reaches for his own disappointingly-empty glass. Across from him, James and Lily seem to be treating his party as the perfect opportunity to hold a marathon snogging session, and Frank and Alice are hardly better. Peter has already succumbed to to effects of the alcohol, and is staring at into the fire in a drunken stupor. Remus vanished to Merlin knows where twenty minutes ago, and Sirius can't decide if he should try and find him or not.

Draining the last mouthful of mead from his glass, Sirius pushes himself up from his seat, stumbling over James's legs as he heads to the bar.

"Another pint of mead please, Rosie," he says to the curvaceous barmaid.

"Well, hello Mr Black," Madam Rosmerta says as she pulls him another pint. "It's been a while since I've had to cater to four drunken Marauders – I can't say I miss it."

"Oh, come on, Rosie! I know you've always had a soft spot for me," Sirius teases, flashing her a wink.

Rosmerta chuckles and winks back. "Happy birthday, Sirius," she says, giving him a quick peck on the cheek before moving further down the bar to see to other the customers.

It's then Sirius feels a warm hand on his elbow. He turns, and feels his heart sink when he sees that the hand is not Remus's, but Beatrice McElroy's.

"Sirius," she purrs, pressing her warm body up against his. "Let's get out of here."

"What?" Sirius says distractedly, his thoughts still on Remus.

Beatrice laughs softly and runs her hand up his arm. "Come back to my place. My roommate's working night-shift, so we'll have the place all to ourselves."

"Oh – uh, Beatrice, I can't..." Sirius mutters, trying to back away, but Beatrice's arms have somehow wrapped themselves around his shoulders and he's trapped between the bar and her.

"Oh, come on, Sirius," she whispers, her lips dangerously close to his own. "Since when do you back down from a free shag?"

Her lips close over his own, and for a moment Sirius considers just letting himself follow Beatrice home and lose himself in the company of another lonely soul. But the angle is all wrong and it's not Beatrice he wants to end the night with.

"No, Beatrice," he says firmly, freeing himself from her embrace.

"But Sirius, I –"

"I need to pee," he says shortly.

13.

He breathes a sigh of relief as he shuts the heavy bathroom door behind him.

The noisy chatter from the pub is muffled and it's much cooler in here. Sirius walks over to one of the small, chipped sinks and splashes some cold water on his face. In the mirror he can see that some of Beatrice's lipstick has smudged onto his own mouth, and he hastily rubs the back of his hand across his lips.

His hand is still raised when the door of the bathroom opens again and a familiar figure steps through.

"Hey," Remus says. He looks as if he's about to say something more, but stops himself and instead leans against the wall.

The water's still gushing from the tap that Sirius has left on; he turns it off and silence fills the room.

They both start talking at once.

"I'm sorry."

"She kissed me."

Their words echo off the tiled walls and blend together.

Remus's eyes meet Sirius's as he says "Listen, Padfoot, I really am sorry. I shouldn't have been so short with you." He swallows and Sirius watches his adams apple bob in his throat.

"It's okay." Sirius takes two steps forward so he's standing in front of Remus. "I'm not angry anymore."

"You should be. I was an insensitive git."

"Well, it makes a change from me being the insensitive git, so I think we're even." But Remus still looks remorseful, so Sirius takes another step closer and reaches out to grasp his hand.

"I just didn't want to think about it," Remus continues in a voice that's so quiet Sirius can hardly hear him. "I just kept thinking that I should have been there. I didn't want to think about what I would have done if it had been you instead of Benjy."

"It wasn't your fault you couldn't be there," Sirius says, drawing Remus slowly into his arms. "You can't make the Death Eaters schedule their attacks around the full moons. I forgive you."

Remus exhales a shaky breath and relaxes into Sirius's arms. They remain like that for a few moments, then their mouths seek each other out. Suddenly, Sirius feels alright. As though hadn't realised how off kilter he's been until now Remus has set him back on his axis.

"Let's get out of here," Sirius says quietly, breaking off the kiss. He reaches down for Remus's hand and entwines their fingers.

"Okay," says Remus with eyes that look like they'd follow him anywhere.

Elated, Sirius pushes the heavy bathroom door open and makes to step through, but Remus refuses to budge. He turns around exasperatedly as Remus, grinning mischievously, says, "Wait – who did you say was kissing you?"

14.

Outside the Three Broomsticks, Remus attempts to cast a sobering charm on them before they disapparate home, while Sirius makes every effort to stop him removing his wand from his pocket.

"Padfoot, you utter arse," Remus exclaims as Sirius traps Remus's wrists in a vice-like grip.

"We don't need a sobering charm," Sirius insists enthusiastically, as Remus struggles to reach into his pocket. "Let's just apparate randomly and see where the night takes us. Besides I just blew the whole of last month's wage on alcohol tonight, and I don't want it to be wasted."

"The last time you persuaded me to apparate randomly with you," Remus gasps, trying to trip up Sirius with his feet, "we ended up half-naked on my parent's living-room sofa. I still can't look my mother in the eye!"

They begin to wrestle in the middle of the High Street. Sirius feels the giddy deliriousness, a mixture of part-alcohol part-Remus, course through him. He laughs loudly into the silent night-air.

"You know there aren't many people who would openly provoke a werewolf," Remus pants after finally trapping Sirius in a head-lock.

"But we don't have to go home," Sirius whines, as Remus releases him. "I bet you the teachers still don't know about the Honeydukes tunnel. We never did manage to do it on top of the Astronomy Tower – that was on my list of things to do before we left school."

"When we were in Hogwarts it was all about how to break out to shag you," Remus says, "and now we've graduated you want us to break back in to shag?"

"C'mon, we can go to the Shack. For old time's sake."

"And be caught by Filch?"

"Well, I do feel bad that I never got the chance to say a proper goodbye to him."

"And you think that letting him catch you _mid-coitus_ will, what, level the score?"

"You know you sound so sexy when you speak latin."

"_Tu es stultior quam asinus_."

"I'll take that as a compliment."

15.

Heading back to the Goldstein & Son office at the end of his lunch-break, Sirius weaves his way through the crowd of shoppers in Diagon Alley. Business has slackened off somewhat at the solicitor's office. Clients who would usually turn to lawyers for advice, are more unwilling to do so; fearful that they might press charges against the 'wrong' people and end up in the Daily Prophet's rapidly expanding obituary section.

"People are just too frightened to trust each other these days," Mr Goldstein said to Sirius earlier, after setting him the task to clean the office floors as there's no other work for him to do. Sirius knows it's only a matter of time before he's laid-off on account of the low business.

He's about to cross the street to the office, when a hand reaches out from down a side-street and grabs his upper arm, pulling him into the narrow alleyway. Immediately he draws his wand out, a curse on his lips, when he sees that the assailant is none other than Regulus.

It's been a long time since Sirius has seen his brother up close; he looks thinner and at his wit's end, there's fear lurking in his pale eyes.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Sirius snarls, pointing his wand at Regulus's throat. Regulus's breath hitches nervously and Sirius feel his anger rise.

"I-I need you to pass a message to Dumbledore," he says shakily, drawing an envelope from the pocket of his robes. "He needs to know that –"

"Dumbledore doesn't need to know anything that comes from your stinking lips," Sirius growls. "If you want to speak to Dumbledore, I'm afraid you've chosen the wrong side, Reg. He doesn't make a habit of helping Death Eaters, especially the snivelling, cowardly ones."

"Sirius, I've got to tell someone! I've found out something, it's about You-Know–"

"If you're too pathetic to even say Voldemort's name, Regulus, then I don't even care what you've got to say. Realised you've got yourself in too deep, have you? Well, it's your own fucking fault for swallowing all of mum and dad's twisted pureblood shite. I know you were there when they murdered Benjy Fenwick – yeah, that's right, I know about that," he hisses vehemently as Regulus's eyes widen, "so you're wrong if you think I'm going to help you."

"B-But you've got to help me – we're brothers."

"You stopped being my brother a long time ago, Reg. I don't have to do_ anything_ for you."

Regulus, suddenly, looks very young and for an instant Sirius can see him clearly as the schoolboy who has wandered into something that is too big for him, and is seeking an escape.

The silence stretches between them until Regulus turns away from Sirius, slipping out of the alleyway, heading back up the crowded shopping street.

Part of Sirius wants to chase after his brother, but he holds himself back.

Besides, it's not like he'll never see Regulus again.

END OF PART II

Thanks for reading


	3. Part 3

16.

The snow piles up in drifts by the roadside as Sirius struggles to open the frozen gate latch.

Cursing, and shooting a quick glance over his shoulder to ensure that there are no ogling Muggles nearby, he draws out his wand, muttering a spell to melt the ice that has welded the garden gate shut.

Mrs Potter meets him at the door, blue apron tied around her waist, and though she's wielding a gravy-covered spatula in her hand it doesn't prevent her from pulling Sirius into a warm embrace as soon as he steps over the threshold.

"Sirius, my dear, it's been too long," she says, ushering him into the warmly lit hallway. Her voice sounds hoarser than when Sirius had last heard it.

"Too long indeed," he agrees, smiling down at the woman who has been the closest thing he's had to a mother.

The Christmas decorations are already up in Mr and Mrs Potter's house, though it's only the end of November. He feels like he's walked into a garish Santa's Grotto: garlands of holly have been wound around the banister leading upstairs, fairy lights blinking from in between the leaves; scarlet poinsettias cover every available surface and glittering icicles hang from the candelabra. Though the decorations are a bit effusive, it gives the place a homely air and Sirius makes a mental note to buy a Christmas tree for the flat when he gets back.

He shrugs off his coat followed by his sodden shoes, and follows Mrs Potter into the sitting room. The walls in here are adorned with photographs of James – a fact Sirius still teases him about to no end. James was, after all, the Potters' miracle-baby; conceived despite the diagnoses of several St Mungo's healers, and Potters have never stopped being grateful.

Propped up in an overstuffed armchair by the fire sits Mr Potter, head cocked toward the radio that's murmuring the latest WWN news broadcast.

"Sirius, how are you, my lad," he inquires, motioning for him to take a seat on the sofa.

"Oh, chugging along alright. D'you hear Terrence Higgs has signed for Puddlemere United?" Mr Potter's passion for quidditch is legendary. As a child James could name all the players for Puddlemere United, in order, before he had learnt the alphabet. "What a swindle," Sirius continues, "that bloke couldn't catch a quaffle even if it had a sticking charm on it."

As predicted Mr Potter launches into a rant about the Quidditch League's nepotistic hiring decisions. It's a good distraction from the depressing stream of news issuing from the radio – a spate of seemingly unprovoked Muggle attacks, and a potential Ministry coup. Terrence Higgs is a nice distraction, which after all, is exactly why James wanted him here...

"So, you'll go then?" James had asked him that morning, as he hurried to leave on a last minute job for the Order. Sirius, a bit surly at being woken up a few hours earlier than he would have liked had grumbled; he had planned to spend the day with Remus.

"Please, Padfoot," James had said, a note of desperation sitting so unusually in his voice that it even roused Sirius from his sleep-infused grump. "They'll just worry if I don't go, you know what mum's like about all this Order stuff and it's Sunday lunch, if you're there it won't be so bad. Plus, I know mum's making yorkshire puddings."

"Have you ever known me to turn down an opportunity to sample your mother's cooking?" But James' smile was still too tight to be natural, "Look, Prongs, it's okay, really. I'll just tell Remus I'll be over a bit later."

He wonders when it was that they had all started to worry so much.

17.

Mrs Potter's Sunday lunch, as always, is delicious. Sirius realises simultaneously just how long it has been since he ate well-cooked food, and just how shoddy his own attempts at making roast potatoes really are. No wonder Remus has always had a pathetic excuse at the ready when Sirius suggests he comes over to the flat for dinner.

They talk of old times; when Sirius would stay at Godric's Hollow with them for the Easter holidays, the time he and James found the old flying carpet in the attic, the first time James had brought Lily home. They're all careful not to mention any topics from the present, nothing that would lead them to dwell on the war, or disappearences, or political coups.

Which is why the conversation turns to Sirius's lovelife.

He's tucking into second-helpings of the roast chicken when Mr Potter says, apropos of nothing, "So, when will you be bringing_ your_ little lady 'round, Sirius?"

He pauses, fork halfway to his mouth, mind a blank.

"Oh, c'mon lad, don't be coy – there_ is_ a little lady isn't there?"

"Leave the boy alone, Charles," Mrs Potter says, though she too is looking over at Sirius with a great deal of interest. "How is Remus, dear?"

"Nevermind about sodding Remus," Mr Potter interjects. "Come on, Sirius, give an old man something to remind him of his youth! I mean, what with that motorbike and all, I figure the young lasses must be flocking 'round you."

But Mrs Potter is not one to be put off. "What's it to you what the boy gets up to, Charles?"

As Mr and Mrs Potter fall into amiable bickering, Sirius takes a moment to assess the situation. It's not that he's ashamed of what he has Remus, and it's not that he's afraid of the Potters' reactions if he comes out to them – heck they managed to put up with him when he was in the full throes of adolescent rebellion, he thinks they'd be able to cope with him being gay. Anyway, Mrs Potter has always been particularly fond of Remus.

It was a few months before school finished that he and Remus had come out to James and Peter, and Lily a few days later. For Sirius, it was only James who really mattered and after he knew all his worries were lifted. He didn't care about what his family might say if they found out – the Marauders were his family by then. And there was no one else Sirius had thought who really needed to know. Besides it wasn't prudent to be as open with people these days what with one thing and another. The fewer people who knew of their relationship, the safer they'd be.

No, he thinks, it's more like this thing he has with Remus is so precious that he wants to gobble up every moment and keep them all to himself.

"Remus is great," he says, ignoring Mr Potter's good nature eye-roll. "He thinks he might be getting a tutoring job at Madame Marstle's, you know, the pre-Hogwarts school in Diagon Alley."

"I didn't know he wanted to teach."

"Yeah, he's really got a gift for it," He shifts forward in his seat and feels a smile come to his lips as he thinks about it. "He was always great at giving us a hand in school, and the younger kids too. He could even make James and I do some work from time to time."

"Well, I'm very glad things are going well for you _and_ Remus," Mrs Potter says. It's subtle, but the knowing glint in her eye is enough to tell him that she at least guesses the truth about them. He should've known; the woman could always catch him and James when they were up to something. She had detection skills that Professor McGonagall could only have dreamt of. He wasn't surprised that she had figured this out too. Or perhaps Prongs had just spilled the beans on them.

Their plates cleared, Sirius stands up from the table to help Mr Potter back to his seat by the fireplace. James's father had long been suffering from Parkinson's, but it was a testament to the Potters' strength of spirit that the disease had never been a cause for despair in the family.

Once Mr Potter's settled, he returns to the kitchen to lend Mrs Potter a hand with the washing up.

Taking a deep breath, he says in a voice that sounds surprisingly shaky even to his own ears, "James has told you about us, then?"

Mrs Potter turns from the sink where she has been directing the sponge over their dirty dishes, and puts her wand down. Before he knows what's next he's wrapped in another bear hug. Relief floods through him – maybe he's more anxious about people finding out than he would like to think. It briefly crosses his mind that he should ask Remus why they haven't come out to his parents yet.

They break apart, Mrs Potter pretending not to notice him hastily wiping his eyes. "No, he didn't tell me. For once Jamie has managed to keep his mouth shut."

"Then… how?"

She laughs. "Because I know you too well, Sirius. I've watched the four of you since you were little boys – I mean I _had_ to, or else you'd've been in that broomshed and away to Merlin knows where before I could have said 'alohomora'!"

She turns back to sink and begins washing the plates again. Sirius steps up beside her and begins to dry the pieces already lined up on the draining board.

"It just always seemed... different with you and Remus, I guess." He feels a blush rise to his cheeks. "I know you and James are very close, but I could see that you held Remus in a different light."

Sirius has to chuckle at that. "Well, Mrs P., I could really have done with some of your insight a bit earlier. You know, there were a few years there where I really didn't know who I was or how I felt or anything."

"Oh, I didn't keep silent for your sake dear," she says, her voice laced with humour. "I just didn't want to encourage you to launch yourself on poor Remus before the boy was ready to handle it."

"He's quite a handful himself."

And they both dissolve into the kind of exhilarated laughter that comes from being with family.

But after a few seconds Mrs Potter's laugh turns into a deep, hacking cough. Bending over the sink, Sirius is aghast to see her body wracked with shuddering coughs. For those few moments, he can see her for the elderly witch she really is.

"It's okay – it's okay," she says when she can draw breath again, though her voice is strained. "I have some cough tablets from the apothecary, let me just pop upstairs and get them."

But Sirius grabs hold of her wrist before she can hurry away. "That sounds a lot worse than something the apothecary can cure. Have you seen a Healer?"

Her eyes dart towards the door of the living room where Mr Potter is sitting still glued to the wireless, apparently not having heard the commotion in the kitchen.

"No, I haven't. But honestly, Sirius, it's not half as bad as it sounds – I'm fine, really."

He's not convinced. "You should see someone, or at least let Lily take a look at it and see what she thinks."

"There are many people who are in more in need of Healers' help than I am. Besides, someone would have look after Charles if I was at St Mungo's for the day. And I don't want to be a bother."

"It wouldn't be a bother, it would only be an afternoon! I can come round and sit with Mr Potter or James or –"

But at that her grip on his wrist tightens. "You can't tell James about this Sirius,_ please_ promise me," she says in earnest, eyes darting to the living room again.

He sighs in exasperation. "I promise. But, you know, you're allowed to be sick too. You don't have to be so strong all of the time."

Mrs Potter just smiles sadly. "This isn't me being strong, dear. It's being too weak to face up to something that's likely to overpower me."

****

18.

Sirius is sitting on top of the kitchen counter in their flat. The dishes he had been washing are now lying in the drying rack, soapsuds still lining the bottom of the sink. After an unexpected visit from Lily yesterday, where she set about kicking up such a fuss about the state of the place in the short time she was there, James has apparently declared war on the general mess that had reigned supreme for the last few weeks. Desperate to keep Lily happy, James has spent the whole of the afternoon cleaning every inch of the small flat. It's surprising how much stuff they have amassed in the past few months Sirius thinks. Back when he was at Hogwarts everything he owned could be fit into the small chest of drawers in the dormitory; now he and James's miscellaneous collection of 'stuff' has spread across every available surface in the flat for the past six months.

Pestered by James to help him with the colossal cleaning task, Sirius had begrudgingly agreed to do the dishes.

James left to pick up Lily from work over an hour ago, and Sirius has been sitting by the window, twisting the blind cord round and round his fingers, watching the sky over London grow steadily darker. In the west the horizon is tinged with pinks and golds as the sun sets below the busy, pulsing metropolis, while over in the east the first stars are beginning to appear against a backdrop of deep indigo-blue night.

It reminds him of Astronomy lessons in school. He loved the nights spent sitting out on top of the chilly astronomy tower, fumbling with the stiff dials on the old brass telescopes, learning the names of the constellations. Cancer and Pisces hanging like weird astral signals above the Forbidden Forest, the spiky tail of Scorpio visible just above the lake.

Of course, there were jarring reminders of his family in the night sky. Regulus to the north and Orion's belt overhead were obvious blots on the infinite canvas, but Sirius could largely ignore them.

Remus never had much love for Astronomy, though; there was no getting away from the moon most nights.

He remembers talking to Remus about the idea of scale after one of their lessons. How it was amazing that human knowledge could extend across scales from their position in Hogwarts, to Scotland, to Britain, to cover the whole of Europe, the world, the solar system, the galaxies; and then all the way back to Sirius himself to his body, the make up of his skin, the arrangement of the molecules, the atoms of the molecules, and finally, smallest of all, the protons and neutrons making up his atoms.

It made their heads hurt thinking about it. Sirius liked the concept though. He saw it as a way of making his problems negligible. It didn't matter if he had another detention, or that his mother had sent him a Howler on his birthday. The Earth would keep on turning, the planets still orbit the sun. Sirius Black would come and go, and absolutely nothing would change. It meant that he could be absolved from even his most fucked-up stunts.

Remus, on the other hand, was not so thrilled by the seemingly worthlessness of life that that perspective brought. It made him exasperated, he said, to think that people go through so much pain, that it had to mean something. Even if just on a human level. The fact that the outermost regions of the galaxy were unaffected by human suffering, did not mean that the suffering was invalid or somehow lessened.

"If it doesn't mean anything, then why should we carry on?" he had said.

Sirius hadn't quite understood what Remus was getting at until two weeks later; the night of the fullmoon.

The front door of the flat swings open, James and Lily stumble through to the bedroom, door banging shut behind them. Sirius magics the suds out of the sink, jumps off the counter-top and pulls the blind shut.**  
**

****

19.

Arabella Figg's house smells of cats.

He wonders if there's a written rule somewhere that states that all single witches of a certain age must begin to collect cats. Not that Sirius minds cats – in fact he seems to have a certain affinity with moggies, something had that led Peter to bet that his animagus would be of the feline variety before they had completed their transformations. He's currently cradling a very small tortoiseshell kitten in the crook of his elbow, and across the room he can see that Dorcas Meadows and Marlene McKinnon are turning doe-eyed at the sight. Beside him, Remus shifts slightly closer and reaches out a hand to stroke the kitten's belly.

"Threatened by the attention I'm getting, Moony?" Sirius murmurs in his ear.

Without hesitating a beat, Remus gives him a brief kiss on the lips. Surprised, Sirius looks up to him, eyebrows raised, but Remus is staring determinedly down at the kitten a smug smile playing at the corners of mouth. Wrapping one arm around Sirius's shoulders he bends closer to the kitten and teases it as it tries to grab at Remus's fingers, which he wiggles just out of its reach.

Sirius can feel Dorcas' and Marlene's eyes upon them, and a few seats down from them James is sending him a foolish grin and a thumbs-up. It feels good to be sitting there, in public, Remus's arm slung around his shoulders and a little bundle of fluff cradled in his arms.

The contentment doesn't last for long, though.

Mad-Eye Moody stumps into the dining-cum-meeting room, closely followed by Dumbledore who is wearing robes of deep emerald green. The kitten springs from his arms in fright and quickly bolts beneath the table to hide. The headmaster takes his seat at the head of the table and Moody hovers just behind him, declining Mrs Figg's offer of a chair.

"Good evening, all," Dumbledore says, glancing around the table to take them all in. "I have some news from the Ministry. Edmir Gillespie has tendered his resignation and my sources are suggesting that Millicent Bagnold will now take over as Minister of Magic."

There's a chorus of expelled breaths from around the table. Edmir Gillespie had been under increasing pressure for the past month to resign in the wake of a series of attacks on Muggleborns and the exposure of a corruption scandal that suggested that his government had prioritised purebloods for top positions in his Cabinet.

"What does Bagnold mean for us, professor?" asks Frank Longbottom leaning forward in his seat, brows knitted together.

"Millicent has proven herself to be an able diplomat and outspoken voice against corruption. I have no doubt that she will prove herself more worthy of the position than Gillespie, but other than that I don't think the situation will improve greatly for the Order. The Ministry still intends to stick by its position that the attacks on Muggles and Muggleborns are not the work of a coordinated group under the orders of the wizard calling himself Lord Voldemort, but that they are the works of individual extremists. I am afraid that while the Ministry continues to maintain this position, our safest course of action is to continue to operate in secrecy. The less Lord Voldemort knows of us, the greater advantage we have."  
"Now," continues Dumbledore, "given that the Ministry will no doubt be in coming to contact me shortly our time here tonight has to be brief, I must return to Hogwarts soon. Does anyone have anything to report, has anyone seen or heard anything strange?"

Sirius notices a pink flush tinge Peter's cheeks, where he is seated next to Lily at the opposite corner of the table. He doesn't speak though, and Sirius makes a mental note to ask him about it after the meeting. Come to think of it, he realises, he hasn't had a proper conversation with Peter in a good few weeks now, not since after Benjy Fenwick's death.

Nobody has anything to report, so Dumbledore passes over to Moody who steps forward and begins to issue out their new assignments to everyone. But it's different to how Dumbledore and Moody have given out assignments before. Until tonight the members of the Order have been able to volunteer to the details they want to be on, given everyone's varying time commitments. Now, however, Mad-Eye is passing out a small brown envelope to everyone at the table.

Sirius gets his and eagerly rips open the envelope. On a small piece of parchment in Dumbledore's familiar sloping handwriting is written the details of his new assignment:**  
**

**Sirius Black**

**Task:** Reconnaissance on suspected Death Eater meeting site. Coordinates to be supplied by Alastor M. Moody. You are expected to monitor the location for any unusual activity/ signs of magic/evidence of previous use. Monitoring will occur in 6-hour shifts with two Order members on duty at all times. Schedule of monitoring to be decided by members to best suit their schedule.

**You will be working with:** Alice Aitken, Caradoc Dearborn, Lily Evans, Frank Longbottom, Marlene McKinnon, Peter Pettigrew, Sturgis Podmore, James Potter, Gideon Prewett.

**Destroy this note after reading.**

****  
The first thing he notices is that Remus isn't on his assignment. But that doesn't stop the excitement that's running through him – finally, after months of waiting and being assigned little tasks not much more than secretarial jobs for Dumbledore and Moody, now this is something real, something that might actually make a difference in this war. A '_suspected Death Eater meeting site_'... what Sirius wouldn't give to lay his hands on some of those bastards, hopefully his cousin Bellatrix with any luck.

He looks over to Remus who is leaning back in his seat, carefully shielding his piece of parchment from any busybodies who might be trying to sneak a look – busybodies by the name of Sirius that is.

"What did you get, Moony," he asks, "you're not on the same assignment as the rest of us – have you been promoted?" His tone is light and teasing but he sees Remus's jaw clench briefly, before it is hidden beneath his well-practised neutral expression.

"Two minutes after you've been issued with instructions and already you're trying to breach Order security, Black!" Moody barks from very close behind him and Remus, causing them both to jump a foot in the air. A few other Order members titter at their reactions, but most are too engrossed in their own letters to spare a thought for anything else.

"Let that be a reminder to all of you," Moody continues, walking around the outside of the table. "Secrecy is the number one priority. I don't care if you're friends, partners, lovers or what have you, you do not talk about your mission to those who are not on your assignment. _Constant vigilance!_"

"Yes, thank you, Alastor," says Dumbledore, rising to his feet bringing a sense of calm back to the proceedings. "Now, if everyone is ready, would you please incendio your instructions." Fifteen voices around the table murmur "_Incendio!_" and the room is briefly illuminated in the flicker and flash of firelight. ("My good carpet!" sighs Mrs Figg as the ash falls to the floor.)

"Very well," continues Dumbledore, smiling around at them all as he heads towards the door. "You know what to do. If you have difficulties please contact Alastor or myself. And a Merry Christmas to you all."

"Hang on a minute," Remus mutters to Sirius as he hastily springs out of his chair and darts after the headmaster. "Professor Dumbledore, sir, could I have a quick word with you?"

Sirius doesn't hear what Dumbledore says in reply, but he doesn't worry about it as he heads over to where James, Peter and Lily are chatting. He'll find out all the details from Remus when they get back home.****

END OF PART III


End file.
